


Birthday Girl

by St_Salieri



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-30
Updated: 2008-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Salieri/pseuds/St_Salieri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As birthdays went, this was one of the <strike>worst</strike> best ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Girl

It was official. As birthdays went, this was one of the worst ever.

It wasn't at the head of the list, or even one of the top three. No one had lost a soul. No one was trapped in a house with a demon. Nothing officially _bad_ had happened, and she knew from bad. Dawn had called her from school, and Willow from South Africa. One of the new girls at the training center had surprised her with a card. Even the vampires had gone underground for the night, her evening patrol quieter than it had been for a while. Nothing was wrong - so why did she feel so wretched?

Maybe, Buffy mused on the way home, it was the extraordinary ordinariness of the day that contributed to her melancholy. Or maybe it was the fact that she was going home to an empty house.

The house was cold and dark when she arrived, which did nothing to improve her sour mood.

"Spike?" she called, not really expecting a response. "Of course not," she muttered. "That would mean he actually cared. Happy birthday to me."

She knew she was being petulant and unfair, but at the moment she didn't particularly care. It wasn't Spike's fault his little demon-killing spree in L.A. had taken longer than he'd planned. He'd even called her to let her know he'd be a day or so late, which was such an un-Spike-like thing to do that she didn't have the heart to really be upset with him. And it wasn't the fault of her friends or her sister that they couldn't be there with her either.

"Stop it," she muttered to herself. "You're better than this."

But today, she wasn't. And the more she tried to tell herself that she was selfish, that she had nothing to complain about, the more guilty she felt for feeling bad in the first place. It was a crappy end to a crappy day, and she was in no mood for the power of positive thinking. Wearily she trudged up the stairs to the bathroom, dumping her unused stakes in the hallway along the way.

She managed to hold back the tears until she was in the shower.

With the curtain closed and the water coming down around her, she felt safe in her own little cocoon. She leaned against the wall and gave in to the luxury of tears, letting herself cry only because she knew she was alone. It was such a relief to wallow in her misery, to temporarily lay aside the pressure of being teacher and leader and Good Example and just feel sorry for herself for a few minutes.

By the time she stepped out of the shower, her eyes were blotchy and her nose was stuffed up and she felt approximately 85% better about the state of the world. She quickly yanked a brush through her wet hair and made a face at herself in the mirror, already feeling slightly sheepish for her private meltdown.

As she was rubbing lotion on her legs, she thought she heard a creaking noise coming from outside the bathroom door.

She paused, and a second later there came another quiet shuffling noise.

Buffy cursed under her breath and looked around wildly for a weapon, finally settling on her hairbrush out of desperation. _Crap. Are you telling me there aren't any scissors in here? Nail clippers? Anything?_ She quickly wrapped herself in a towel - like it had any hope of staying on in a fight, but she did have her dignity - and threw open the bathroom door, leaping out into her bedroom and landing in a defensive posture.

And then she froze in shock.

Although all of the lamps were off, the bedroom was awash in light. Lit candles were scattered over every horizontal surface - including a tiny one sprouting from the middle of a chocolate cupcake that sat on her bedside table next to a single red rose.

She took it all in in a single glance, but her attention was largely riveted to the bed in the middle of the room.

Spike lay in the center of the bed with his arms folded behind his head, completely naked. Naked, that is, except for the red bow tied neatly around his erect...

_Guh._

"Oh," she said faintly. "You're here."

She could feel drool collecting at the corner of her mouth, and she quickly snapped it shut while he smirked knowingly at her. Damn him.

"Happy birthday, Buffy," he said in his silky bedroom voice. "Care to unwrap your present?"

It was the waggle of his eyebrows that did her in. A sharp bark of laughter came bubbling up from her gut, as sudden as a sneeze, and in the next heartbeat she was bent double, eyes watering and stomach cramping from the force of her laughter. As soon as she began to calm herself, a glance up showed Spike shaking his bow-bedecked bits at her, and off she went again.

"You are such a weirdo," she croaked when her voice was finally under her control.

"And you love it," Spike said smugly. He tilted his head, blatantly checking her out, and she realized that her towel was seriously riding up her thighs. She preened for him for a moment, coyly peeling the edges of the towel apart, then tore it off and threw both it and the hairbrush across the room in one swift motion. And...yup. It was time for _his_ eyes to glaze over.

_That's more like it._

Switching her hips back and forth, she prowled across the room toward him, delighting in his approving growl.

"That's right," he said, leaning up on his elbows and watching her hungrily. "Come over here and let me give you your birthday spanking, little girl."

She stopped dead in her tracks and glared at him. "Do you _not_ want to get laid tonight? Because I'd strongly suggest giving the bad birthday puns a rest."

He pouted at her. "Fine. But only because it's your...."

She held up a warning finger, and he mercifully shut up. Which was double-plus good, because it allowed her time to study him without distraction. Spike lay sprawled against the dark blue sheets like a fallen angel, his muscles lax, all heavy-eyed and louche and completely decadent. She watched as one of his hands drifted lower and scratched idly at his belly before taking hold of his cock in what was clearly a pointed invitation.

"Well?" he asked, a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Aren't you going to blow out your candle?"

Her eyes narrowed.

Spike chortled.

Without another word, Buffy pounced.

 

********************

 

"Missed me?"

Buffy snorted. "Nah," she said easily. "I was having a great day." Somehow Spike's ribbon had gotten wrapped around her left ankle during the proceedings. She shook her leg over the edge of the bed and watched the red scrap of fabric flutter lazily to the floor.

Spike let out a rumble of laughter and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. He must have heard her crying in the shower, but he knew her well enough to let his gentle kiss say everything for him. At that moment, she didn't think it was possible to love him more.

"Well, it was a hell of a fight," he said, yawning. "There was a dragon and everything."

"No way. Like, with the actual fire-breathing? And I missed it?"

Spike snorted. "You missed something, alright. Angel got himself a bit too close at one point, and...well, let's just say it's going to take him a few months to regrow that ridiculous head of hair."

Buffy poked him in the side just to watch him squirm. "I think you liked that part a bit too much," she chided.

"Can't blame me, can you?" He favored her with a shit-eating grin, teasing her nipple with his thumb. "Now, who's ready for her present?"

"Ooh, prezzie!" She bounded up in bed, clapping her hands like a child, making him laugh.

"That's what I thought." He bent over the edge of the bed and started rummaging beneath it. From her vantage point, Buffy admired the bottoms of his feet, the curve of his ass. She loved seeing the soft underbelly he showed only to her, and she reached out to ghost her hand over his heel and tweak one of his toes. He gave her a soft smile over his shoulder, then turned and handed her a long, flat box.

"I noticed you gave your favorite one away to one of the girls." He cleared his throat nervously. "Thought you could use another. And if you don't like it..."

She quieted him with a kiss. "I'll love it," she promised. "I _do_ love it."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against him. "Oh yeah? You don't even know what it is yet."

She shrugged against his shoulder.

"Doesn't matter. It's already perfect."

The way his smile lit up his entire face sent a warm glow to her belly. She laughed along with him, rubbing her nose against his.

It was official. As birthdays went, this was one of the best ever.

 

 


End file.
